In Defense of Land
by child-dragon
Summary: On my server, if you go around throwing lowbies off cliffs with mind control, you just might have someone come and set you on fire. Or multiple someones. For this story, it's a shaman and a warlock. Fire.


The call went across the winds faster than any living creature could have delivered it. It reached Warraven's ears and she pulled the reigns of her wind rider to a halt, letting the beast suspend it itself in mid-air. The beat of its wings almost drowned out the sound but Warraven reached up her fingers, caught a small bit of dust and held it before her eyes.

A place where earth met sky. Two elements in perfect conjunction. Bloodshed, anger, and malice.

The grains drifted away and Warraven pulled hard on the reins, urging her mount forwards, faster, as fast as it could possibly fly. She was lucky she was nearby. Perhaps she would be enough.

The edge of the Barrens dropped away below her into a chasm with a thousand needles piercing the air. The name was very appropriate. The windrider banked, seeming to already know their destination, and Warraven inhaled the dry air. She felt it crack her dry nostrils and after a moment she sneezed. That was all. No more messages from the spirits, no more signs carried on their elemenatal wings.

It dropped from the sky and she slid off the saddle, landing hard on the rock on the outpost, her weapons already drawn. In one hand crackled her vicious weapon from the Shattered Sun, an extension of her powerful arm and fist, sides jagged like numerous daggers and crackling with the arcane magic that had been imbued into it. She summoned the spirit of wind to it, and the spirit of fire to the small but potent dagger in her other hand. And with a gesture, the power of water swirled around her. Her brown eyes burned as she stepped across the rock of the outpost, looking around for what the spirits had spoke of. There was a warlock there, watching the elevators.

She paused by him, his hunched frame barely reaching her shoulder. She could not see his face under the twisted and horned helmet he wore.

"Some human priest," he said, "She has the power of shadow about her and has been taking over the minds of anyone close to the ledge and throwing them off."

He cackled and Warraven did not chide him, for it was more out of grim appreciation for the situation than anything else. It was a long fall. She could not imagine what it would feel like, to have the mind taken over, the footsteps taken unwillingly towards that plunge… then the moment when the body fell into air to land on unyielding earth, all for nothing, all because someone else willed it. Warraven's tail thrashed.

"Then let's stop it," she said simply, and walked along the bridge leading to one of the elevators.

Earthmother guide her to the right one. She'd get only one shot at this, really, before the surprise wore off. The inhabitants of the outpost watched her. Surely they remembered when she first passed through, naïve and eager to learn. Now she had returned, worn tough by the fires of Outlands and the trials of the spirits.

It was her turn to protect them.

The elevator's top came into view and Warraven readied herself, the warlock behind her. She couldn't tell what he was thinking. But as the wooden platform came into view the shaman knew she had picked the right one. She smiled at the priestess, clad in the dark shadow that suffused her being.

And she summoned. The spirits of fire responded and with a roar an elemental rose up at her command. Then she charged the priestess and the elemental was right behind her, the heat scorching her fur but the full fury of fire directed at the human. The warlock was right with her and she heard his cackling laugh but her attention was directed only towards the priestess and breaking through that magical shield. It smashed against her weapons, somewhat yielding, holding them for a second before repelling them. Her muscles were like woven iron and she continued the attack.

Near the bottom, the priestess leapt off and surprisingly, the elemental followed before either the tauren or the forsaken. Warraven ran after her, landing on the tented pillar between the two elevators, then regained her balance and barely made it to the second elevator that the priestess was aiming for. No doubt she hoped to get Warraven's mind under control before the shaman tore her to pieces. The fury within the tauren said that this was not going to happen.

There was nowhere to run and Warraven's fist finally tore through the shield and into the priestess. Red blood was quickly burned away by the focused head of the elemental. Then everything went calm. There was a haze over her mind and while the elemental kept attacking, Warraven turned from the elevator's edge to see the ground, far far below. She could hear the wind calling her name.

They had reached the top. Warraven, her mind stilled and watching everything from a distance, as if the infuriated roar of the elemental was not there, as if everything had gone silent, turned and faced the empty sky.

The spell lifted as the elemental buried the priestess under a cascade of fire and sparks. Warraven's senses returned to her and she cried out, her hand snapping out to grab hold of the only purchase available, the bridge leading out to the elevator. Her dagger vanished into the empty sky below her and dimly, she could see it hit the canyon bottom. She could see the elemental nearby, a charred body at its base.

She grit her teeth and kicked her hooves, flailing in midair, trying to get some better purchase. With some reluctance she let go of her other weapon and got her other arm up onto the bridge. But the weight of her armor was dragging her down and she was struggling for breath.

Then hands clasped her arms, arms pulling her to safety. Two of the soldiers that defended this post pulled her up to safety and for a moment she knelt there, panting, trying to regain her calm. The forsaken warlock was running up behind them.

"She's dead," one of the tauren said, "Well done sister."

No. Not well done. Just what had to be done. She ducked her head, letting her wild mane fall to hide her bitter expression. Why did people do these things to themselves?

"Couldn't follow you fast enough to get to the second elevator," the forsaken said, "The elemental made it. I wonder if that priestess will taste better now that she's been well-seared."

And he laughed. Warraven only stood, shaky in the legs, and walked inward, away from the ledge. There was a fire and a tent. She could sit in this for a little while until her nerves calmed. Then she'd go down and retrieve her weapons.


End file.
